


all that's left are your bones, that will soon sink like stones

by bereft_of_frogs



Series: let the human in (whumptober 2020) [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (everybody needs a hug), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, SHIELD, Thor Needs a Hug (Marvel), Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27339685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereft_of_frogs/pseuds/bereft_of_frogs
Summary: Bruce is holding it in his hands, fidgeting with it. That doesn’t seem good. “It’s...well, it’s an invitation, actually.”Thor holds out a hand and Bruce passes it over. It’s on heavy paper, the ink jet black, printed in a formal font. Thor skims it....hope you are recovering….important step….disposal of the body….The signature is a name he doesn’t recognize. Scrawled underneath, in Tony Stark’s handwriting.I’m not going. Good luck.There are many things to be done, in the aftermath of their victory. This is just one. Thor and Loki take a trip to witness an ending, and get caught in a storm.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel), Steve Rogers & Thor
Series: let the human in (whumptober 2020) [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993756
Comments: 7
Kudos: 84
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	all that's left are your bones, that will soon sink like stones

**Author's Note:**

> written for whumptober 2020, day 26: If You Thought The Head Trauma was Bad (migraine) 
> 
> warnings: dead body, implied 'human' experimentation
> 
> fic title: 'Your Bones', Of Monsters and Men

The rain comes down in sheets. As the wind picks up, it lashes against the windows. A particularly strong gust makes the glass rattle. It’s dark as night outside though the sun won’t set for another hour. The late-season storm rages around them.

Thor stands, looking out the window of their room to watch the storm. Another flash of lightning, thunder following a moment later. The hair stands up on the back of his neck, the power in his blood connecting with the energy in the air. Their room has a view of the sea. The water roils, churned up by the storm. The waves rise to incredible heights and crash down on the cliff. Thor finds the scene beautiful, but does agree that it would have been folly to attempt to cross to the islands tonight.

So they were stranded on the mainland until the seas calmed.

Thor turns away from the window and towards his brother. Loki is laid flat out on the bed, still fully dressed, with one arm tight across his stomach and the other draped over his eyes. His chest rises and falls slowly, evenly.

“Are you all right?” Thor asks as lightning flashes again.

“I have a headache.” Thunder follows Loki’s words. Thor goes to sit on the edge of the bed. Loki stays still, not moving or opening his eyes. “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

“Do you regret coming?” Thor asks quietly.

Loki sighs and drops his arm from his eyes. He blinks up at Thor. “No. Though…I don’t know. I both wish that I had not come but I know if I had not…I would never really be convinced that it was over. That he was dead.”

“I agree.” Thor lays his hand on Loki’s chest. “Though I too feel…conflicted. There’s a part of my mind that still thinks it might all be a dream.” His emotions are as turbulent as the sea outside. He truly does not know how to name how he feels. Thor feels half in a memory, seeped in the rank terror of their time on Sanctuary and half giddy with triumph. He goes back and forth between the two until it makes him feel sick.

“It’s not?” Loki whispers.

“It’s not a dream,” Thor says back. “I promise. It’s not a dream.”

The summons had come a month and a half after Thanos’s defeat. A month and a half of steady progress in recovering, in building up a new home on these islands, and all of it might come crashing down with the delivery of a piece of paper.

It’s a warm day when Bruce comes to find him. Thor was taking a break from helping with constructing homes, drinking water and gazing out at the sea when Bruce approaches him, scratching his head and looking rather uncomfortable.

“Hey, I’ve got...I’ve got a letter.”

That seems odd. “A letter?” Thor asks. “From whom?”

“Yeah, the electricians who came to set up the wiring brought it. It’s addressed to all of us.” Bruce is holding it in his hands, fidgeting with it. That doesn’t seem good. “It’s...well, it’s an invitation, actually.”

Thor holds out a hand and Bruce passes it over. It’s on heavy paper, the ink jet black, printed in a formal font. Thor skims it.

_...hope you are recovering….important step….disposal of the body…._

The signature is a name he doesn’t recognize. Scrawled underneath, in Tony Stark’s handwriting. _I’m not going. Good luck._

“They’re going to cremate him,” Bruce says. “Burn the body.”

“It’s fitting,” Thor says. “And it’s what the Norns said to do. They told Gamora and Nebula to take the ashes and bury them. Why invite the rest of us though?”

Bruce shrugs. “Closure. It might help.” He glances up at the house. “It might help him.”

Sometimes, Loki cannot tell reality from a dream. He sometimes believes he is still dead, still in that shadowy world, floating down a river. Like his mind has conjured up all of this. Sometimes he refuses to sleep. It takes Thor all night to convince him it’s not all going to vanish if he closes his eyes. It’s hard to see him like this.

“You’re right,” Thor says to Bruce. “It might help.” There’s a chance it will make things worse, but Thor will take it on the hope it will make things better.

“I wouldn’t tell Loki about...about the reason it’s so delayed.” Bruce awkwardly shifts his weight.

It takes Thor a moment to understand. His eyes skip back to an earlier part of the letter. “Right.” They’d been running experiments on the body, no doubt. It had been in the back of his mind, that the Sokovia Accords were still technically law, that that chapter of their lives was not yet resolved, but he’d set it aside in favor of the more pressing concerns of housing and safety. Everyone else had as well. Most nations were still scrambling to reorient themselves in the wake of Thanos’s victory and defeat. It had all happened so fast, left scars. There had been talk of a hearing, of collecting testimonies, but Thor hadn’t been sure why it had been so delayed. He supposes now that they had been collecting the physical evidence first.

“Right.” He says again, feeling a tired headache start in his temples. “

“I mean, there’s no way he’s going to take any of it well but yeah.”

“Will you attend?” Thor asks.

Bruce sighs. “I don’t know. I feel like there’s a part of me that just wants to let it all go. Say ‘fuck him’ and move on but...I think they’ll expect me there, right?”

“Probably,” Thor answers honestly. He folds the letter. “I’m going to go tell him. No use putting it off.”

Bruce nods. “I’ll finish up with the electricians, hooking up the generators. Good luck.”

Loki is out of bed. He’s been spending a lot of time in bed lately. Thor doesn’t know whether this is a good or bad sign, with his news. He sits down at the kitchen table, watching Loki as he takes a drink from his water glass, looking out the window at the bay. Loki says nothing in greeting, just keeps his eyes on the water. He looks thoughtful, gaze distant but neutral.

Thor turns the paper over in his hands, running the pads of his thumbs over the edges. He sets it on the table.

“Loki,” he says. “We’ve received a letter.” He hesitates a moment more, then explains the invitation.

The glass strikes the counter with a sharp sound.

To outsiders, Loki looks surprisingly composed. Only Thor can read the signs of tension. Thor is tense in turn, hovering and waiting for the certainly approaching breakdown. In truth, Thor is perhaps so hyper-attuned to his brother’s distress as a way to avoid his own. For several nights he has dreamed of Sanctuary and each morning wakes up glad that he can put the memories of torment aside to concentrate on making sure Loki is holding together okay.

Thor hadn’t been quite sure Loki would pull it together enough to make the journey. Their conversation in the kitchen had been fraught that afternoon, and he stayed in bed, wracked with nightmares and panic for days. But by the time it came time to leave, Loki had calmed. Eerily so, but Thor doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to break the thin layer of glass that lays like a shield over the uglier emotions.

They travel incognito. The Security Council hadn’t wanted to make a spectacle of Thanos, especially since the majority of Earth didn’t know the identity of the mysterious villain who nearly ended their existence. The Avengers all suddenly gathering in one place would only renew the gossip surrounding the ‘Missing Days’ - and no one wanted that. So they dress in modern Earth styles and take a ferry to the mainland, then a short flight to Oslo and a longer one to London, where the ‘funeral’ (for lack of a better term) would be held. They check into a hotel that has been specially bought out for the occasion, whose staff has been bound by nondisclosure agreements and sworn to discretion.

Thor receives a message from Steve once they’ve settled into their room.

“He’s in the bar. Asks if we’ll have a drink with him.”

Loki shrugs. “As you wish. I’d rather remain here,” he says in that alarmingly calm manner he’d had throughout their voyage.

“I’d like to see him,” Thor says quietly. “Will you be all right on your own?”

“Of course,” Loki sounds tired. Perhaps he would just sleep.

“I won’t be long,” Thor assures him.

“However long you want.” Loki turns to look out the windows.

Thor hesitates a moment longer. “Alright.”

Thor takes the elevator to the top floor of the hotel, where there is an empty bar. He hadn’t thought to ask Steve whether there would be others present and is relieved when he arrives and finds Steve alone, except for a bartender who’s keeping a respectful distance.

“Steve.”

He turns around at Thor’s word and breaks into a smile. “Hey.”

They embrace, exchange initial pleasantries about how the construction of New Asgard is coming, how Sam and Bucky are getting along.

“How do you feel about this whole thing?” Steve asks, when they’re on their second round of drinks.

Thor sighs. “I don’t know. I know that I would regret it if I did not come.” He pauses a moment, gathering his thoughts. “This is the end that the Norns willed, and it is fitting that it is happening in such secrecy, without ceremony. It is not unlike what we would have done on Asgard to our enemy dead. Burn the dead, without honor, without distinction, and bury the ashes

“I only found this out later, but they did pretty much the same to the Nazi commanders, after they were executed. Burned the bodies and scattered the ashes in a river.” Steve takes another sip of his drink. “It makes sense.”

“And hopefully it can mark an ending,” Thor says. “We can begin to move on.”

Steve nods. “How that all going? With…” He clears his throat. “Just, I remember, after the Raft…”

“It is…a challenge. There are good days and bad. But steadily improving, I hope.” Thor looks into his drink. “I can only hope this will be a step forward, rather than one back.”

“It’s closure, right?”

Thor smiles weakly. “Sometimes it feels like there can never be any closure.

“Time. Just give it time.”

They drink together late into the night, alternating between lighthearted conversation and deeper discussions of the aftermath of the near-apocalypse. They part and Thor feels somewhat unburdened.

When Thor gets back to the room, the lights are off. Loki is sound asleep in the bed closer to the door, curled on his side. Thor brushes his hair back, gently rubs his shoulder to let him know he’s returned and pulls the covers up closer around him. Loki stirs a little, then settles back to sleep.

Then he collapses into the other bed and spends a fitful night dreaming of the apocalypse and the drip of rainwater onto a tin roof.

It feels like a dream, when they show up to witness. Or a nightmare. There is something vaguely reminiscent of the Raft in the clinical setting. Thor doesn’t recognize anyone there except for Maria Hill.

“Welcome,” she says, with a forced cheer. “I’m glad you came.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Thor says. Loki remains quiet.

She clears her throat. “Right. So the…the cremation is set to start at two but we have a bit of time for…” She clears her throat again, awkwardly. “Did you want to see the body?” Maria asks. “Others have. Just…if you wanted to be sure…”

“Yes,” Loki answers quietly before Thor can. Maria barely has to glance at the door before Loki is pushing past her, Thor trailing behind.

They’re surprisingly alone with the body. Thor glances up and sees hidden cameras though. Likely if they start to attempt any theft or dismemberment, they will be stopped.

He watches Loki carefully. His brother keeps his mouth pressed into a stern line as he encircles the body. The body is mostly covered in a sheet, just the head and arms exposed. Thor supposes it must be a grisly sight underneath the cover. Loki gets closer, runs a long finger down an arm. He stops at the wrist, fingertip pressing just into where there would be a pulse if the corpse was living. He frowns deeper, furrowing his brow.

Loki turns on his heel and leaves the room without another word. Thor lingers behind for another moment, looking at the massive body on the table. The skin is so drained of color it appears almost grey. The expression slack; eyes closed for eternity. Still, Thor’s heart pounds sickly at the sight of him. He approaches cautiously, as if Thanos will jump up and reclaim him. But nothing happens. As he gets closer, he can see the edges of the jagged wound across his throat where Nebula sliced his throat. The edge of the scar Thor himself had given him with Stormbreaker peaks out from underneath the blanket.

He lets out a long breath. The room is utterly still. Thanos is as immobile as a statue.

He follows Loki out.

“We’ve got booths. For privacy. I’ll show you to yours.” Maria leads them down a hallway.

Loki has said not a single word since they viewed the body. Thor does not press him. He’s too distracted, fixated on the image of Thanos’s throat where it was torn open and bloodless. As they near their designed box, he thinks he sees a flash of red hair, a green hand that disappears through another door. He has not asked Loki how he felt about Gamora and Nebula’s presence here. He gathered, at some point in the chaotic days following Thanos’s final defeat, that despite their role in the end, Loki had memories that he could not overlook. He avoided Thanos’s daughters, and Thor did as well, though he did hope that he could speak to them one day. Not today.

The viewing booth is nothing more than There are chairs to sit on but they ignore them, standing with their heads held high in front of the glass. Thor recalls that they once stood like this on the Ark, before the windows to look out at the stars. Until the day that Sanctuary rose before them, blotting out the stars and bringing their lives aboard the Ark to a crushing end.

The body is wheeled out on a stretcher, pulled by four humans. It takes them some effort to transfer the corpse from the stretcher to the slab on which it will be burned. Then all they have to do is press a button and the slab slides into the crematorium.

_It’s very advanced,_ Maria had said, on their way to the viewing chamber. _It had to be specially designed to accommodate the size and unusual biology. State of the art._

Thor feels lightheaded. He is flooded with unwanted memories; of the way Thanos had been a phantom in their lives for so long, of Sanctuary, or facing him on the battlefield.

He thinks of chasing him through empty space, after their failed assassination attempt at his refuge. He thinks of how desolate and alone he had felt, standing on that planet and not wanting to return.

One of their first nights on the island, when their house was the only one that was even halfway livable, even if it didn’t have electricity or heat yet, they fell asleep before the fire in the living room, on a pile of blankets on the floor. Though the reasons for this sleeping arrangement - their unfinished home, their trauma that made sleeping apart difficult - it almost felt like they were children again, falling asleep while being read a story. Loki fell asleep first, looking young and peaceful

The second Thor thought that though, it dissipated. The memory of childhood, of Asgard, melted away, leaving behind the lonely reality. Alone on an island that wasn’t quite yet a home. The rest of their family and friends dead or far away. Thor felt desolate and sad, unable to sleep.

Loki woke with a start a moment later. He kicked aside his blankets and sat up

“What is it?”

“I dreamed I was back _there_ ,” he said. “The Soul Realm, the pocket dimension, wherever we are. It felt real. We slept on the ground, with whatever scraps we could find as blankets and bedrolls. Like this. I suppose that’s why it felt so real.” He laughed, rubbed at his eyes. “I sometimes can’t believe we ever left. None of the rest of it feels as real.”

“It is, though,” Thor said quietly. “Real. This is real.”

“Where’s Valkyrie?” Loki asked. Thor was almost stung at the longing in his brother’s voice, but dismissed the jealousy as absurd a moment later.

“The mainland, remember? Just for the night, with Bruce-”

Loki looked relieved. “Of course.” He settled back down, let Thor pull him into an embrace before he fell back asleep, breathing noisily . Thor didn’t sleep much that night. He couldn’t say why, only that he felt like he was keeping guard over something. He held Loki in his arms and listened to the crackle of the fire, sometimes rising to put more wood on the flames-

Thor snaps back into the present moment at a mechanical groaning sound. The flames are growing around Thanos’s massive form. Because they’re separated from the furnace by the clear glass, there is no smell, but Thor has seen enough bodies to imagine it. He almost wishes that this had been out in the open, on a real pyre, so they could smell the smoke and burning fat, so that the smell would linger in their hair and on their clothes. That’s probably why the humans have chosen this mechanical, sterile way to do it. So that they can be detached from the process. They can watch, they can ensure that the flames are at the right temperature, that the body is entirely reduced to ash. But the scientific, precise process is particularly what unnerves Thor. It is too reminiscent of the Raft. It is too clean.

He believes it would feel more real if he could taste the smoke. If it lingered on his skin for weeks. Instead he watches as the device consumes the body without scent or heat.

Loki’s hand grips his arm painfully tight. He’s shaking and as the flames consume Thanos, he turns away, putting his head in his hand. Thor shifts his stance so Loki can lean heavier on him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He puts his other hand square on Loki’s back, tracing a small circle with his thumb.

Thor doesn’t take his eyes off the body as it burns, until it is nothing more than ashes that workers in coveralls and masks begin to rake out. Gamora and Nebula will take the ashes and scatter them in three pieces. Thanos will never reform. He will never return. He is condemned to death, his dreams are broken and scattered. He will hurt no one ever again. It doesn’t erase the lives he took, the hurt he’s done. The scars will likely remain forever. The feeling of liberating bleeds away and leaves Thor feeling tired.

“Let’s go home,” Thor whispers to his brother. At Loki’s faint nod, Thor guides him out with a secure hand around his shoulders.

“It’s not a dream.”

Loki’s lips tremble for a moment, then he looks away. Then he winces. “It’s hard to tell sometimes. I can scarcely believe he’s really gone. Like he’s hiding in the shadows, waiting.” His eyes slide past Thor to the door, like he expects Thanos to be just behind it.

Thor grasps his shoulder and squeezes, getting Loki’s attention back on him. Loki’s gaze snaps back to him.

“It is _not_ a dream,” Thor says with more urgency. “Thanos is gone. As the Norns willed it, his ashes will be buried on forgotten planets. It is over.”

Loki’s lips quiver and Thor thinks he might start to cry. But instead he winces and looks away. “My head.” He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “ _Norns_. It’s pounding. Of _course_ , I would get a migraine after all this.”

“I’ll get you some ice,” Thor says. “That helps, yes?”

Loki nods and closes his eyes again. He presses his hand flat against his forehead.

In the quiet of the hallway, getting ice out of a big container in a small room near the stairway, Thor finds himself feeling more at peace than he had in years. He is tired, weary, but calm. There would other challenges to face, there was still the lurking trauma they had both suffered, but alone in this quiet in, with a storm blanketing them in, Thor feels calm. He feels sure that he can handle what comes, a certainty he has not yet found in their new lives.

He returns to their room, wraps some ice in a towel, and drapes it over his brother’s forehead. Loki murmurs his thanks, relaxes a bit.

“Water?”

Loki shakes his head tightly. “Not now. Maybe later.”

“You should sleep,” Thor says quietly. “It will help. With the headache.” Another peel of thunder from outside. The rain lashes at the glass.

“You’re probably right,” Loki says, already sounding like he was drifting off. “You’re sure?”

Thor doesn’t have to ask what he means. “Of course.” He sits next to him on the bed, keeps a solid hand on his shoulder

When Loki is asleep, Thor goes back to the window to watch the storm. It’s chaos on the other side of the window panes. The lightning illuminates the churning waves and Thor smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> So, my first post-'alone amidst the ruins' fic! Just a short tag to follow up on one small piece of the aftermath - what was to be done with the body. I actually have another quick line about them attending the cremation tucked in another WIP, I sort of took that small thought and ran with it. 
> 
> Also, fun fact, this was actually originally started for the Bad Things Happen bingo square 'Caught in a Storm' but I had another idea to fill that square that I finished faster, so, yeah, another fic won that square. Luckily, 'migraine' also appeared on the whumptober prompt list, so I was able to finish it for this. :-) But yeah, that's where the storm comes in. 
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/shares/frogs always appreciated! Happy Thanksgiving to anyone in the US!


End file.
